The Calm Evening Sea

"It's gonna be a wild sunset in about 50 min"

(Text I sent to my wife as I pulled up to the gym.)

The whole drive, I'd been staring at the sky, the clouds and the horizon. By now I'm a pretty decent judge of the permutations and combinations of elements that cause good things to happen when the sun goes down. And on that evening, the stars were aligned perfectly. There was going to be blistering explosion of color.

"Go for it, it's camera time", was the response.

All the push I needed.

Gym plans abandoned, I rushed back home. The math was not in my favor. All my  usual sunset photo spots were 30 minutes away. I had to change, pick up my gear and head out. That would leave me with barely 15 minutes to get anywhere. I had to get creative.

I picked a spot that, if all goes well, is about 20 minutes by freeway. But I'd never been there for photography before. I'd have about zero minutes to find an interesting comp once I got there.

Here's the thing about sunsets – you never really know what's going happen. Arriving at the coast, I realized there was a thick layer of clouds hovering right above the horizon, blocking the sun. Game over.

No longer rushed, I decided to explore a little and see if I could find something that would inspire. Happened upon a ledge that opened up to a view that immediately struck me as special. The sea was calm. There was a gentle glow on cliffs below. A serene mist enveloped the coast.

The peaceful scene I left with was the opposite of the sky-in-flames, violent-ocean capture I had in mind when I first noticed the sky, but is now one of my favorite photos from the city I call home.